Bride of Fire

by Glynnis Campbell

  Apparently, sometime in the night, she’d done just that.

  Using the rope of sheets Jenefer had conveniently left, it seemed Hallie had climbed out the window, dropped to the ground, and, if Jenefer’s suspicions were accurate, lit out for Rivenloch.

  Her domineering cousin must have finally seen the wisdom of summoning troops to take Creagor by force.

  Jenefer felt like crowing with glee. Reinforcements would likely arrive within the hour. And once that swaggering Morgan Mor mac Giric glimpsed the magnificence of the Rivenloch knights, he’d pack up his clan and cattle and scurry back to the Highlands. Triumphant, Jenefer would claim Creagor for her own.

  At least that was what she’d thought before the Highlander burst in, all might and muscle, looking more dangerous than she remembered.

  Now, standing in arm’s reach of the great beast of a man who somehow managed to loom even larger by the light of day, she had second thoughts.

  Fearless and fearsome, he looked as if he might take on an entire army himself.

  The contained fury in his eyes seared her. His nostrils flared with aggression. His jaw clenched. His chest swelled with rage.

  Jenefer was sorely tempted to take a judicious step backward.

  It took great restraint not to budge. But she managed, addressing him in a voice that was more confident than she felt.

  “Did you think, Morgan Mor—just because we’re wee lasses and you’re a big man—we’d sit, and stay, like a pack of whipped hounds?”

  To her dismay, her carefully aimed arrow went wide of its mark.

  “Nay, Jenefer du Lac,” he snarled. “I trusted—since ye claimed to be seasoned warrior maids—ye’d have a sense of honor and keep your word.”

  He glanced past her, toward Feiyan, branding them both with shame.

  “Where has she gone?” he demanded.

  “I don’t know,” Feiyan replied.

  He glared at Jenefer.

  She wasn’t about to give the Highlander advance notice of an assault on Creagor. But she didn’t need to lie to him. “She didn’t tell us. We woke up, and she was gone.”

  Jenefer could see the gears grinding in his head as he imagined where she might go. She supposed it wouldn’t hurt to give him a little unsolicited help.

  She furrowed her brow with feigned concern. “I hope she isn’t lost in the forest. There are wolves in the wood. And unarmed as she was…”

  She hoped Feiyan wouldn’t ruin her ploy with laughter. If there were wolves in the wood, Hallie had probably brought them all to heel long ago. And she could navigate the forests surrounding Rivenloch with her eyes closed.

  Fortunately, Feiyan had her back. “Do you think something may have happened to her?” she asked, turning wide, watery eyes toward Morgan. “Our uncle will never forgive us if we’ve lost her.”

  Morgan glanced back and forth between the two of them, probably trying to decide whether to believe them. In the end, caution forced him to play into their hands.

  “I’ll send out a tracker.” He sighed unhappily. No doubt he had few men to spare. “Are ye sure ye don’t know where she’s gone?”

  Feiyan shrugged. Jenefer sadly shook her head.

  Morgan wasn’t fooled for an instant by the lasses’ pitiful semblance of worry. And he was certain they knew exactly where Hallie had gone, especially since he’d overheard Jenefer mentioning her da’s knights.

  Hallie had obviously returned home to fetch her father’s army.

  Nothing could be worse.

  He’d hoped to avoid a conflict with the neighbors.

  Now he was heading towards all-out war. Short-handed. Ill-prepared. Without the means to withstand an attack or a siege.

  God’s bones. He hadn’t even been in residence one full day, and all chaos was breaking out.

  Muttering a curse, he wheeled away from Jenefer. It was hard to think with the winsome and wily beauty staring at him like that. Especially when he knew he might have to use the lovely lass as a hostage.

  He grimaced. The thought of holding a dagger to her bonnie throat sickened him.

  In frustration, he pounded the door with the back of his fist.

  How much time did he have before the army of Rivenloch arrived at his gates? An hour? Two?

  What was he to do?

  The castle’s defenses were his first concern.

  He’d have to muster the few soldiers he had and station them along the curtain wall. He’d send servants out to gather the livestock and quickly harvest what remained in the fields to prepare in the event of a siege. Maids could haul up buckets of water from the courtyard well as a defense against fire. Young lads could set them at strategic points inside the palisade timbers.

  His best defense, of course, was his possession of the lasses. Unless the Laird of Rivenloch deemed the Warrior Daughters expendable—and he didn’t believe that for a moment, considering their marriageable beauty—battle could be avoided with that simple leverage.

  But what about Hallie? What if she hadn’t returned to Rivenloch? What if she was lost in the forest? Set upon by outlaws? Eaten by wolves?

  His leverage was worthless without the third cousin. Hallie was the commander. She was the laird’s daughter. If the Rivenloch knights appeared, and Morgan couldn’t prove she was safe and unharmed…

  He shuddered. He had no desire to face the army of a vengeful father.

  He had to send someone after Hallie. Someone who could find her quickly.

  His best tracker was Colban.

  With any luck, his clever right hand man would find her before her clansmen could set foot on Creagor soil.

  “So, Highlander, do you plan on starving us?” Jenefer suddenly asked, jarring him from his thoughts.

  Food was the least of his worries. He would think it would be the least of hers as well. After all, she was about to become a pawn in a clan battle.

  Feiyan chided her. “How can you think about breakfast at a time like this, Jen?”

  Jenefer lifted a proud chin. “Unlike you, dwarf, I need sustenance to keep in fighting form.”

  Feiyan shook her head, then arched a judgmental brow. “You eat like an ox.”

  “I do not.”

  “A pregnant ox.”

  Jenefer’s eyes flashed. “You spawn of a goblin! How dare you—”

  “Enough!” he thundered.

  Next door, awakened by all the noise, the bairn began to wail. Morgan growled deep in his throat.

  “I’ll send the maid up with breakfast,” he grumbled.

  “I won’t eat live mice,” Jenefer warned.

  Morgan scowled. “What?”

  Feiyan gave her an elbow. “Ignore her.”

  Jenefer elbowed her back.

  Morgan shook his head. “Do ye think ye can keep from killin’ each other till then?”

  They exchanged smoky, slit-eyed glares full of malice, but nodded.

  Feiyan got out of his way when he strode to the window. He unknotted the rope of sheets and hauled it in. For good measure, he took the coverlet as well, leaving only the sheepskins on the bed. He drew the line at confiscating the lasses’ garments, though he wouldn’t put it past the brash wenches to flee naked down a rope of their own clothing.

  “I’m postin’ a guard just outside,” he said, opening the door, “so don’t get any wild notions about takin’ your leave.”

  “Taking my leave?” The fiery Jenefer couldn’t resist adding, “Oh, I have no intention of leaving Creagor. Ever.”

  He answered her with a steely stare. He’d never raised his hand to a lass. And he never would. No matter how tempting it was to smack the smirk off her smug face.

  And yet, as the willful wench continued to meet his gaze, he had to admit he was amused by her boldness. No lass had ever confronted him as directly, as unflinchingly, as this one did.

  Even his own wife Alicia had shyly lowered her gaze in his presence.

  Finally, realizing he was wasting precious time, he gave Jenefer a nod of
farewell and left to prepare the keep for battle.

  Chapter 19

  The instant Morgan left, Feiyan turned to Jenefer. “Do you really think Hallie is bringing her da’s army?”

  It took a moment for Jenefer to comprehend the question. She was still rattled. No man had ever failed to back down under Jenefer’s challenging stare. Until now.

  The Highlander’s gaze had been unyielding. Unsettling. Unnerving. And something else. Something that made her heart beat unsteadily.

  “Well?” Feiyan insisted. “Do you?”

  Jenefer, distracted, tried to recall what her cousin had asked. “Believe that Hallie is bringing the army? Aye, of course. Why else would she have left?”

  Feiyan looked doubtful. “’Tis so unlike her.”

  “You don’t think Hallie is truly lost in the forest and devoured by wolves, do you?” she scoffed.

  “Nay, but…”

  “Then she’ll be here soon.”

  “You should know, when we left Rivenloch, she commanded the knights not to follow us. She said ’twas to be a mission of peace.”

  Jenefer bit her lip. Unfortunately, that did sound like Hallie. “But once we were taken captive,” Jenefer reasoned, “she must have realized peace is impossible.”

  Feiyan gave her a quizzical look. “Is it though?”

  “Aye,” Jenefer groused, irritated that Feiyan seemed to disagree. “He plans to hold us hostage. He hopes to negotiate with Rivenloch for our release. And he’ll demand Creagor as payment.”

  “Maybe. But ’twasn’t what Hallie thought.”

  “Indeed?” Between the babe’s incessant wailing and Feiyan’s contrariness, Jenefer was feeling testy. “And just what did Hallie think?”

  “She thought he meant to return us. She said he was a man of honor.”

  “Honor?” She rolled her eyes. “He’s a Highlander, Feiy. You know they trade their children for cattle, aye?”

  “Children for… Where did you hear that?”

  “’Tis common knowledge. They’re uncivilized.” She waved toward the next chamber. “That’s probably why the babe is upset. He knows he’s going to be traded for a coo.”

  Feiyan shook her head and returned to gaze out the window. The wind had died down this morn. Fog softened the landscape.

  Then she sighed. “My dao is out there somewhere, turning to shite in this weather.”

  Jenefer would have empathized, except she’d seen Feiyan’s wall of weapons. Her cousin owned dozens of blades, axes, sticks, and stars. Daggers of all shapes. Some as small as sewing needles. Some as large as lances. Some looked as innocent as hairpins and ladies’ fans. All of them were deadly.

  She could hardly miss the few that lay strewn on the sod.

  Besides, Jenefer’s bow and arrows were out there as well. Worse, her satchel of food had been left to scavenging animals. It had contained a veal pasty, oatcakes, bannocks and butter, hard cheese, and an apple coffyn.

  Her stomach growled in complaint. Of course it could hardly be heard over the babe’s loud wailing.

  She joined Feiyan at the window and leaned out over the ledge.

  “Miles!” she shouted toward the adjoining window. “Quiet down now!”

  By some miracle, he stopped. She and Feiyan exchanged looks of amused surprise. But in the next moment, he resumed his cries, even more piercing than before.

  Jenefer shrugged and pulled her head back in. “I’m going to give that babe to someone who won’t trade it for a coo.”

  Feiyan rolled her eyes.

  Jenefer scowled as her stomach rumbled again. “Thor’s beard! I’m starving.”

  Feiyan folded her arms in disapproval. “If our uncle’s forces are indeed on their way, and if the Highlander intends to hold us for ransom, then we should be preparing for battle, don’t you think?”

  “I can’t think,” Jenefer said, “not on an empty stomach.”

  It was true. And Jenefer had given up trying to explain her voracious appetite, especially to Feiyan. She ate what she ate. Besides, despite her feasting, she was still rather lean for a lass.

  Miles’ cries grew muffled then and finally ceased. The nurse must have put the babe to her breast.

  Jenefer sighed. At least one of them was getting fed.

  “If I only had my sais,” Feiyan said wistfully as she gazed into the mist.

  Jenefer didn’t know which weapon that was. But she understood. She longed for her bow as well. If the two of them were forced to face battle together, they needed to be armed. Even more, they needed confidence.

  As much as she mocked her cousin for her whirling and prancing, she knew Feiyan’s fighting methods could be effective indeed.

  “You don’t need weapons, Feiy,” Jenefer said, giving her a wink and a sly grin. “You are a weapon.”

  Feiyan’s wry mouth slowly turned up, and her eyes glittered with deadly threat. “That I am.”

  Chapter 20

  Morgan scoured the armory as his warriors dutifully prepared for battle. They laced up their cotuns and buckled on claymores, donned helms and took down targes from the wall. All but one.

  “Where’s Colban?”

  “He was on watch last night, m’laird,” someone called out.

  But no one knew where Colban was this morn.

  Morgan searched the bedchambers, the courtyard, the great hall. He was nowhere to be found.

  More often than not, Colban spent the night between the thighs of a lovely maid. His comely face and convincing grin assured him he seldom bedded down alone. And the black eye and split lip Morgan had given him had probably won him the sympathy of a willing wench.

  But damn his hide! Morgan needed him right now. They were about to face a formidable force of knights bent on rescuing their precious clanswomen. And Colban was the only man he trusted to seek out and find the one that was missing.

  Which reminded him… He’d promised to feed the two lasses in his bedchamber.

  He stole several warm oatcakes from a kitchen maid’s tray as she passed and grabbed a skin of ale off a trestle table. That would have to do.

  Most of the servants were too busy stockpiling food and gathering livestock to tend to captives. So he decided to take it upstairs himself.

  As he crossed the great hall, young Danald ran up to him.

  “M’laird! I found these in the wood.”

  The lad had a quiver full of arrows and a longbow looped over one shoulder. He held up a satchel and what looked like a bundle of rags. Could they belong to the missing warrior maid?

  Nay, she’d claimed to have come unarmed.

  Tucking the wineskin under his arm, Morgan plucked out a length of sheer white linen and held it up.

  When he realized what it was—a lady’s leine—he quickly wadded it against his chest.

  “Good work, Danald,” he said. “I’ll take them.”

  Once the lad scurried off, he set everything on a table to examine it more thoroughly. The bow was light but well-made, the arrows crafted by a master fletcher. There was a leather bracer tucked into the quiver. But neither it nor the quiver had identifying marks. There was no way to determine the weapon’s owner.

  Rummaging through the rest of the garments, however, it didn’t take long to realize they belonged to Jenefer. He recognized the soft, earthy scent wafting off of them. Spicy. Sweet. Musky.

  He blushed to think he’d been fondling her undergarment.

  Clearing his throat, he moved on to the satchel. There were no weapons inside, just crumbs of whatever food she’d packed and a half-full aleskin.

  Gathering everything but the bow and arrows, he bounded up the stairs.

  Thankfully, Miles had ceased crying. Maybe he’d see if Bethac could slip downstairs to help with siege preparations.

  First, however, he’d deliver the lasses’ breakfast and clothing.

  When he opened the door, Jenefer was sitting innocently enough on his pallet. But dressed only in his leine, she presented a compelling sight.r />
  Her long, shapely legs dangled over the edge of the bed. Her delicate toes brushed the floor as Morgan entered. And where her knees were slightly parted, shadows hid the treasure he knew was there between them.

  She didn’t seem to notice that the breath had been stolen from him.

  He used a moment to close the door behind him and gather his wits. Finally he dropped his burden onto the table.

  “Breakfast,” he announced. Then he frowned. “Where’s Feiyan?”

  “In the garderobe,” she said, jumping up to see what he’d brought.

  Apparently she wasn’t going to wait for her cousin. She immediately pounced on the food like a wolf on a coney. She devoured the first oatcake at once. By the way she closed her eyes and licked her fingers, one would have thought she hadn’t eaten for days and was dining on the finest swan.

  She washed it down with a swig of ale, then began to demolish a second oatcake. He wondered if she intended to save any for Feiyan.

  Feiyan was right. Jenefer did eat like an ox.

  But it certainly didn’t show. He’d held her, naked and squirming, against his side last night, and she hadn’t seemed overstuffed in the least.

  That memory made him uncomfortably warm, and it reminded him of what else he’d brought.

  “Your clothin’, I believe,” he said, offering it to her. “A lad found it in the wood.”

  Chapter 21

  Jenefer glanced down at the bundle of her clothes. She couldn’t decide which she’d rather do. Refuse the clothing, thus denying him his own leine? Or tear his garment from her at once, telling him it stank of the Highlands?

  In the end, she was too grateful for the warm breakfast to be rude. So she simply took the bundle and placed it on the bed. Then, swallowing down the last bite of her second oatcake, she whipped the borrowed leine off over her head and held it out to him.

  The flash of shock in his eyes was amusing. Was this the same man who’d picked her up and carried her naked on his hip, then straddled her to force her into his leine? He looked as if he’d never seen an unclad lass before.